


Strangers in the Night

by blueteak



Category: Backdraft (1991)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Sibling Incest, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:30:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueteak/pseuds/blueteak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The doctors had said that Stephen was basically out of the woods and would be able to rejoin the 17. Maybe not for a month, maybe not for six months, but he could be back, leaping into rooms without the proper protective gear and shoving newbies out of the way before the year was out."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers in the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galerian_ash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galerian_ash/gifts).



Brian was so damn grateful they couldn’t hear the sirens from this part of the hospital. The gentle wooshing and beeping of the machines keeping Stephen alive were soothing in comparison. And even more soothing would be Stephen saying something, doing something. The doctors had said that Stephen was basically out of the woods and would be able to rejoin the 17. Maybe not for a month, maybe not for six months, but he could be back, leaping into rooms without the proper protective gear and shoving newbies out of the way before the year was out. 

As if Brian ever planned to let him go back. He’d talked to the chief and hadn’t even needed a single bottle of scotch to get Stephen full retirement as of as soon as he woke up. Brian had wrangled some time off as well, but he didn’t know what they’d do after that time ran out. He only knew that if he had no intention of ever watching Stephen almost get killed on the job again, there was almost no way Stephen would be okay with being the one waiting outside looking up at the windows to try and catch sight of Brian battling a blaze. 

Stephen had spent his life, not just his entire career, hoping never to experience anything like what Brian had when the fire had killed their father. Stephen did not have it in him to witness, to know deep down that there was nothing he could do. Stephen hadn’t even been able to look at that photo from _Life_ magazine for the longest time. It went too far against his grain to witness. It was as though stopping to look was admitting defeat. And so Stephen’s form of grief counseling for Brian involved baseball games if Brian hadn’t cut class and suicide sprints if he had. 

Stephen’s form of grief counseling for himself involved doing everything in his power to make sure that Brian stayed healthy and happy and whole. In other words, his form of grief counseling involved attempting to remove the possibility of grief entering his life. Stephen had seemed to believe he could keep Brian alive through sheer force of will. 

And then Brian had entered the academy. If he’d thought Stephen was micromanaging before, he’d certainly had his eyes opened. After drilling all day, he got home and got to show big brother what felt like just about everything he’d learned in class that day. And then he’d have to do it again, and again. And when he got it right, they’d finally open a six pack. If he’d gotten it spectacularly right, Stephen would even smile like there was a future to look forward to.

The night Brian had screwed up a simulation, though…. Stephen must have told someone to call him the minute Brian fucked up beyond a hose-rolling problem because Stephen had started laying into him before he had even gotten the car parked. 

When Brian finally got a word in to defend himself, yelling that he’d managed to save the team in the simulation and that he was the only one who would have been hard to save, he’d thought Stephen would lay him flat. Stephen hadn’t done it before, ever. He’d clenched his fist and gotten in Brian’s face once or twice, but he’d never swung at him. Brian had been sure this would be the first time, but Stephen must have seen something in Brian’s face because he’d swallowed hard and stepped back. And then told Brian in the lowest voice he’d used all evening that he needed to get out of sight.

Brian decided not only to get out of sight, but to get drunk out of his mind as well. He’d called some friends from the academy to see if anyone else wanted to sweat beer during sprints tomorrow, and a pretty sizable group of them had hit every open bar in a one-mile radius. By 1:30 a.m., though, the group had dwindled to…just Brian. And the bar he’d stepped into hadn’t just been a bar. It had been more of a club. A gay club, to be more precise. 

Several of the men there had muscles that made it look like they spent their days doing the fire drills Brian did. Hell, Brian had thought, maybe they did. It had been too dark to really see faces, and the strobing lights and the pace of the dancing made it too hard to concentrate on features that weren’t abs and biceps. Well, Stephen was always telling him to get moving. Now he would, but not with an axe or a hose or 20,000 pounds of other equipment on him. Here, he was going to take off his shirt and pretend none of that existed. Here, no one looked at him and saw the little boy on the cover of _Life_. 

Judging by the comments made by guys who’d been trying to buy him drinks, what they saw instead of an orphan or a trainee was an ass to die for and arms they wanted around them all night long. Brian didn’t know about all night or about drinking any more than he already had, but the press of bodies against his, not to mention all the approval he was getting for once, made him want to stay.

Brian had thought about men before, especially some of the probies at Stephen’s station, but he’d never done anything about it until now. The buzz from the booze had worn off, only to be replaced by the energy he got from looking and dancing and touching and feeling completely anonymous, free from pity, expectation and any history.

Looking back, Brian didn’t know whether it had been luck (good or bad, some days he thought it had been both), or information that had led Stephen there that night. He had seen enough in his life to believe in coincidence, but also knew his brother well enough to know that he could have called every one of Brian’s friends, never mind the hour, to try and figure out where he’d gotten to. 

And of course Stephen had found him in the back room, wiping his lips with the back of his hand after having been taught how to give his first blow job. The guy, who’d danced with him for half an hour on the floor before inviting him to the back, had just told him that wasn’t the best impression to leave at the end when Stephen came up behind him and jerked him up by the arm.

Figured that Stephen would appear when critique was handed out. But Stephen wasn’t angry at him (yet). He’d yelled at Brian’s partner, asking what the hell he thought he was doing with “the kid.”

And that had led to his partner (Brian didn’t remember if he’d ever known the guy’s name) getting right back into Stephen’s face and asking whether “the kid” was his. And Stephen had yelled that Brian was. The guy had looked between them, clocked Brian’s chagrined expression, and told Stephen with a wink that he needed to keep a tighter leash on his twink. 

Brian didn’t know exactly what that meant and was beyond shocked that Stephen appeared to. And that he hadn’t minded the guy’s insinuation and let go of Brian’s arm before explaining that he was Brian’s older brother and practically his former guardian. If anything, he’d held Brian’s arm closer, as though he was taking the guy’s suggestion under advisement. 

The erection straining Stephen’s jeans also indicated he was at least aroused by the possibility. Jesus. Brian hadn’t allowed himself to consciously think of Stephen that way before, but those bodies he’d admired at the station had looked suspiciously like Stephen’s. He hadn’t considered it before because a. Stephen was his brother and b. Stephen was often commanding in ways that were decidedly unsexy, but right now the thought of those hands on him was cutting through the mortification at the idea. And the taboos. 

All he’d had to say was “Stephen,” and his brother had known that Brian was willing to try.

“Jesus Christ, Brian, no,” Stephen had said, taking Brian by the hand and renewing his efforts to get them out of the club.

Brian had followed, a little bit of the mortification settling back in at Stephen’s response and at being led out of the club by the hand. It brought up an uncomfortable mix of memories from the past and desires for the future. 

He wasn’t mortified enough to drop the idea, though, and had come up with a plan on the silent ride back to Stephen’s house. 

Brian knew he had to sell Stephen on this before they got inside the house and became Older Brother Hero Fire Fighter Stephen and Younger Brother/Former Ward (Practically)/Student Brian again. Once they were inside, this whole evening would become something they never communicated about, except through glances. This way, it would be out there. Stephen could take it or leave it. 

“Look,” Brian had said when they pulled up, carefully not looking at Stephen. “I’m going to be in the back room of the club every Friday you’re not on shift. It’ll be dark in there. I might not know for sure who I’m with.”

Brian didn’t add “And neither would you.” That would be pushing it. Either Stephen would try it and hate himself or not try it and hate himself for thinking of it and knowing that Brian was with other guys. And Brian would definitely be with other guys if Stephen wasn’t there. He hadn’t even fully understood what he’d been missing until tonight.

The next Friday Stephen came, as Brian had hoped he would. Brian had watched the back room’s entrance for what felt like an hour but was probably really only about ten minutes before Stephen showed up. Brian had carefully smothered his grin, worried about somehow spooking Stephen, and turned to face the wall for the same reason when he knew Stephen had spotted him. 

Over the next several months of Fridays, they acted like better versions of themselves while also pretending ,for the sake of propriety (and their own sanity), that they were strangers. Stephen instructed without yelling, and his concern for Brian manifested itself in making sure Brian was fully prepared instead of making him feel micromanaged. For his part, Brian showed up on time and was more than eager to learn. He didn’t even argue (much) when Stephen told him firmly that there were some things they were never going to do. 

And then Brian had quit the academy. He and Stephen had argued about it so vehemently that he’d been sure Stephen wouldn’t show up that Friday. It felt like they had reverted back entirely to their previous brother/father/mentor relationship. The lover part had never been acknowledged openly, of course, but sometimes they’d touched a little longer than they used to. After the “You quit now, Brian, you’ll be quitting the rest of your life!” argument they’d had, it was hard to believe that moments like that had ever existed.

But Brian had been wrong. Stephen had gone to the club that Friday. And he’d fucked Brian like he really was a stranger. He was as careful of Brian as he always was, but there was no talking, no indication that he knew Brian’s body or state of mind at all. Even when they'd been "strangers," Stephen had touched him and said his name in a way that made him feel seen. This time, Brian felt like he’d had more of a connection with the man he’d met his first night at the club. Finally, Stephen had pulled out, tied off the condom, and walked away without a word. 

Rationally, Brian knew Stephen felt that Brian had abandoned him in one arena and would therefore abandon him in all the others, too. In Stephen’s mind, Brian had already walked out of his life. That didn’t make the fallout from Stephen’s final fuck you any easier to process emotionally, but he could understand it even though it hurt like hell.

Over the next few years, he and Stephen went from pretending to be strangers in a back room to becoming strangers to one another’s lives. Brian attended Stephen’s wedding, kissed the bride’s cheek, shook Stephen’s hand, and tried really hard not to think about the wedding night. Stephen saw Brian out on a date and tried to tell himself the kid was better off without him, that it was better he looked out for him at a distance. The spark hadn’t died, but they’d ruthlessly smothered it whenever they’d caught it.

Neither of them would be fighting that spark any longer after what had almost happened today, Brian thought, almost laughing at the idea of what Stephen would say if Brian confessed to having dreamt up that particular bad joke. Not that he would ever share it with Stephen. He needed to show Stephen that they had so much to live for, so much still to experience together, and joking wasn’t the way to do it. There was no easy way, but he’d figure something out. He had to.

For now, though, Brian just wanted Stephen to wake up. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Stephen so still. Even when he was sleeping the sleep of the drunk or the fucked out or the 48-hour shift, he’d either frown or reach out or twitch, depending. Entirely motionless just didn’t happen with him.

Brian wanted to hang on to consciousness long enough to see Stephen regain his. Then he could pass out and be as still as Stephen was now. The energy that had gone into fighting the fire and Adcox and keeping Stephen alive had started to fade. His muscles were screaming for a hot shower. He’d been able to change out of his gear and into a spare pair of scrubs, but sweat and soot and tears had dried on him, making him feel crusty and about a thousand years old. 

Brian apparently looked so terrible that all the new medical personel coming into the room kept trying to herd him into triage. Brian was just slipping a surgical mask over his face in an effort to hide from any triage-happy hospital workers when he heard Stephen’s rasped “You’re doing it wrong.”

Brian flipped him off through tears that wouldn’t stop coming. “What do you know about how to put on a surgical mask?”

“More than you,” Stephen said, and smiled even though everything probably hurt more than Brian could imagine. 

“Shhhh,” Brian said, and held Stephen’s hand. They would figure it out. Probably without words. 


End file.
